Alas! Where have all the years gone?
Did I dream my life, or is it real?
What I always thought - was that something?
Then I've slept and don't know itâ?¦
...
When from the sod the flow'rets spring,
And smile to meet the sun's bright ray,
When birds their sweetest carols sing
In all them morning pride of May, ...
Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.